


Cigarette Ash

by MyPersonalKilljoy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cute, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humour, Innuendo, M/M, POV Jesus, Shy Daryl, Tattoos, darus - Freeform, help me, hopefully, im really sorry, negan comes later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyPersonalKilljoy/pseuds/MyPersonalKilljoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence was different when he was with Daryl. There was no pressure, the man never expected anything from him, was never disappointed with him when he did wrong. He was humbly satisfied with whatever Jesus had to offer, taking whatever he could without asking for more. And Jesus was sure that he should find that depressing, but instead he found it beautiful. Because it was Daryl. </p><p>And all of Daryl was beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarette Ash

Jesus had been interested in Daryl since the moment he met him -love at first punch, he would later say to anyone who would listen. Quiet brooding types had always been his weakness. Every time Jesus caught a glimpse of those huge -gorgeous- biceps his breath would catch. 

Not to mention that whenever he saw the man's firm -gorgeous- ass he would completely lose control of all of his limbs. 

Jesus didn't want to dwell on how many times he walked face first into walls or parked cars. It was beginning to become a problem, he was supposed to be the one with great coordination for Christ -hehehe, get it?- sake. 

Honestly, did the man not even own a shirt with sleeves? 

Jesus, patient as he was, finally drew the line when he came back from a run with Abraham -which he had somehow been roped into, he didn't even live there for goodness sake!- feeling tired and sore, to see something that made him feel sore in an entirely different way. 

Daryl was stood against his bike while sucking a cigarette with such vigour he was surprised that he hadn't completely inhaled the thing yet. 

Jesus had never been so jealous of a cigarette before. 

His jeans were slung sinfully low on his hips, making him look more like an angel than any winged vest could.

His hair was greasy and it hung limply over his eyes, his tanned arms were covered with dirt and sweat and god knows what else. Plus Jesus was pretty sure that there was a bloodstain on his shirt.

But he would be lying if he didn't say that it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Jesus had never really understood the phrase 'sex on legs' until that moment.

But the despite this hard evidence, apparently no one realised that they were in the presence of a god as no one moved to kneel at Daryl's feet in prayer. 

Suddenly, Little Jesus stood to attention at the thought of kneeling for Daryl and he quickly rearranged as subtlety as he could without taking his eyes off of Daryl.

He had just about finished his cigarette, the ash nearing dangerously close to the mans lips when Jesus began to feel his legs moving. He didn't have much time to dwell on it though, because soon he was faced with the suspicious glare of Daryl. 

Daryl had never really moved past the hating part of their relationship, still gifting each one of Jesus' leers with a muttered curse and an annoyed glare. Honestly, you lose one truck full of food and suddenly you're the bad guy. Unbelievable. Still, Jesus had managed to make some progress. At first Daryl glared at him the second he stepped in the room. Now he only got the patented scowl when he opened his mouth. 

"What ya' want?" Daryl asked in the gruff, sexy drawl of his. His squinted eyes trailing up and down Jesus. 

Jesus was usually quite the talker. Always with something to say and with the right words to say it. But for some reason Daryl seemed to steal all the letters from his lips, the dark haired man making his mouth as dry as a desert. Sure he could come up with a million witty comebacks and double entendres when they were around the group. Hell he had made Daryl blush more times than he could count. But whenever it was just the two of them a strange intensity washed over them and he couldn't find the right words, always blushing and quickly making an exit and then cursing himself after. He just couldn't deal with the pressure that those dark blue eyes brought. They reminded him of a cat's. Shining through the dark hair that covered them and seeing into Jesus' soul. 

Jesus was afraid he was falling in love with the man holding a cigarette like it was his lifeline. 

Abruptly he realised he had been silent for a while and he should probably answer. 

"I was just wondering..." Come on Rovia, say it. Just ask him out, you have done it a million times before. Just a few simple words. "...have you seen Maggie around?" 

Wow great job. Here, have a gold star. 

Daryl gave him a withering look and said something about her planting some crops with Glenn before stamping out his cigarette. 

Jesus was pretty sure that his heart had been crushed along with it. 

Jesus nodded and started walking, hating himself more and more with every step. He was an idiot, he should have asked him out. He could have played it off as a joke if Daryl rejected him. He was pathetic. 

"Hey wait," Jesus was surprised to find that it was his own voice he heard and it was in fact his own legs that walked back to where Daryl was getting ready to exit the gates. 

"I... I ummm-" What was he doing?

Daryl gave him a slightly worried look and got off his bike to walk towards him. Oh no, he probably thought that Jesus had banged his head while he was out or something. Maybe he had, it would explain how he had gotten into such a terrible situation. 

Daryl didn't say anything, just stopped a few paces away from him and looked at Jesus with those intelligent blue eyes. Jesus wouldn't mind dying right at that moment, with those eyes staring at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered. 

"You okay?" Daryl asked, brow knitting together in what simply couldn't be concern. 

"Where are you going? It'll get dark soon and you really should stop taking so many risks." Oh well now he gets his words back. Typical. "You shouldn't go on your own I mean, or maybe you shouldn't go at all, either way." He was rambling. He wanted to die. Life was meaningless. He might as well just jump off the nearest building. It would certainly hurt less than the rejection he was about to face. 

Who ever said that Jesus was dramatic, right? 

They stood in silence for a while, each sizing each other up. 

If Jesus' life was a film -or a TV show about post apocalyptic life, either way was good- they would have been completely alone in the dark, with storm clouds brewing and sexual tension the only thing between them.

Instead Eugene was stood on watch -still in earshot, may he add- with a few other Alexandrians milling around and the weather was perfect. Bright and crisp with only a soft breeze. The sun was practically grinning down at them. 

"You wanna come?" Daryl sounded unsure and more than a little bit suspicious.

'Boy, you have no idea' Jesus almost said, but his throat closed up and he could only nod frantically.

Daryl started biting on his thumb endearingly, his eyes darting between Jesus and the gates. He was probably trying to think of a good excuse for Jesus not coming along with him. 

Finally he gave in and nodded, and Jesus was so smug he completely missed Daryl's gulp and anxious eyes. He followed the taller man to his bike and could hardly contain his excitement at the thought of being behind Daryl Dixon -he actually thought about that a lot, but in different context.

"So what are we going for?" He asked, feeling a lot more confident after gaining Daryl's -reluctant, but there none the less- acceptance. 

"Found a nursery a while back, figured I could get somethin' for the baby." Daryl exchanged a few awkward words with Eugene -Jesus didn't know Eugene very well but he really doubted that any exchange involving Eugene wasn't awkward.

Then Daryl straddled his bike and Jesus had to check his pulse to make sure he wasn't in heaven. 

He smiled and sat on the bike behind Daryl, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

Huh. Maybe things for Jesus were finally staring to turn around. 

***

He was wrong. 

Because after that trip, which was filled with awkward chatter (Jesus), falling over random objects (also Jesus) and a lot of badly timed innuendos (okay, so Jesus wasn't having the best of days). 

All the while Daryl blushed all the way to the tips of his ears (which Jesus found absolutely adorable) or told him to shove his blah blah up his blah blah (to which Jesus had responded with a witty comment that made the archer flare red).

When they had gotten back, bags full of formula and other essentials, as well as a few toys that Daryl had tried to sneak in without Jesus noticing, Daryl had been so pissed he had walked off, leaving Jesus alone with only a bag of nappies for company. 

Even after that Daryl had begun to avoid him, each time Jesus neared him the man scurried of to hide in places where even Jesus would struggle to find him. Along with the fact that he did actually have a job, so a lot of his time was spent in an empty house discussing plans with Maggie. It wasn't bad though, in fact he quite enjoyed Maggie's company, she played along with his banter while still managing to complete the tasks they had set. Even so, Jesus found that he missed Daryl's company. 

He loved teasing him, pushing his buttons and watching him fume. The man got riled up far too easily. He also missed Daryl's quiet wit and sarcasm, seeing the man's intelligent mind shine through the few words he chose to say. Plus it didn't hurt that the guy's ass was like butter on a stick.

Constant travelling between Hilltop and Alexandria had worn him out, finding himself more tired and drowsy than usual. He let out a deep sigh, dwelling on the drama that had somehow become his life.

"What's wrong with you? Yer haven't said a word all day," Maggie cast an eye in his direction while still managing to count how many crops they would need to plant to be stable for the Winter. Tough life, the apocalypse.

"Huh?" Jesus asked, blinking rapidly to try and remove the imagine of a smoking redneck from his retinas. 

"You haven't written nothing in half an hour and ya' sighing like a mouse that missed out on tha' cheese." 

Jesus sighed again and weighed his options: awkwardly ask Maggie for dirt on Daryl or die alone in a puddle of his own tears. He was seriously considering the latter after he saw an evil glint in the pregnant woman's eyes but stopped when an idea came into his head. Sure it wasn't a great idea, but it was better than rolling around in his own misery for the remainder of his life. 

"I was just thinking about this place I found a while ago. Like a massive warehouse, I couldn't get in at the time but... I don't know I was just thinking about going on a run." He looked at the woman out of the corner of his eye, hoping his lie had done the trick.

"Hmmm, who you thinking of taking with ya'?" She asked, biting her lip while flicking through various files.

"Take someone with me? No, I would rather go alone. It's a simple job; in and out. I don't want anyone to ruin our chances by making a bunch of noise." 

Take the bait. Take the bait. Please take the bait. 

She finally looked up at him and while her face was completely neutral, her eyes glowed with mischief. "Ya' know Daryl's real quiet, doubt he would cause ya' any trouble." 

"Oh well, if you insist," he smirked, "You ask him though, he's too much of a softie to turn you down." He turned back to his work, mouth straining to hold back a grin. 

"Fine, but you best finish that." She pursed her lips and pointed at the sheets he needed to finish before turning back to her own, softly stroking her stomach as she did so. Jesus grinned.

He didn't even manage to write a single sentence. 

***

Jesus wouldn't say that getting himself and Daryl trapped in the small, abandoned bakery was his fault. 

In fact he blamed the other man. He was the one that had gotten himself caught on the edge of a car door and cut the front of his shirt open. So who's fault was it that Jesus gotten a little distracted at the sight of the mans beautiful torso and accidentally took a wrong turn? 

But apparently Daryl didn't get the memo, judging by how much he was shouting at Jesus and pacing around the room. 

"We just have to wait until morning, they will thin out and we'll be able to take them. You just have to wait." Jesus said, choosing to be rational, which was very difficult seen as though Daryl's chest was still being displayed as if it was an exquisite painting in a gallery.

"Nah I ain't waitin' here with you." Daryl snarled , pacing like a wild animal in front of the door. His thumb was in his mouth and he kept looking out of the window in case the dead would suddenly disappear. 

"Why do you hate me so much?" Jesus had been wondering about this for a while, and hey, no better time than the present right? "I know it's not the truck because I know you, even if you would like to believe that I don't. I know you wouldn't hate someone just for that, so what is it?" He stood and walked towards Daryl, his passion controlling his steps.

Some would call it ironic that the hunter looked like a deer in headlights at Jesus' words. 

Jesus would call it adorable.

He stopped pacing but he didn't drop his thumb.

"I don't hate you," he began, looking at something incredibly interesting just to the left of Jesus' head. "I don't." 

Jesus didn't know what to say to that, so he chose to say nothing at all. 

Maybe Daryl was rubbing off on him a bit too much. 

And not in the way he really wanted either. 

***

Being friends with Daryl was a lot simpler than he expected. 

Before he had imagined having to save Daryl in a heroic display of bravery and courage or something. 

Instead he just talked to him.

Which was great for Jesus, because he loved talking. He loved the times where he could get a grin out of the normally stoic man. He adored getting the chance to hear his light chuckle, how his shoulders would hunch with his laugh and his head would duck down. Don't even get him started about the times Daryl started a conversation or told him a sarcastic comment. 

It started with that night in the bakery. The dead were banging on the windows and their groans filled the air. They had sat in silence and waited for the sun to rise for a while. But then Jesus had gotten nervous and asked what the mans favourite film was. He remembered Daryl staring at him for a few tense seconds before smiling, well, it was more of a twitch of the lips really. But Jesus' breath still caught. So it was good enough. 

After that he started spending nearly every free moment with Daryl. Sitting with him on watch or following him hunts, which only happened when Daryl was in a very good mood so Jesus treasured every killed squirrel. Wow that was a weird sentence. 

On watch Jesus would tell him stories or ask him what things the hunter liked. He didn't always get an answer but when he did he was always sure to give Daryl a grin, mentally storing every piece of information so he could one day put it together like a huge jigsaw puzzle of Daryl's life. He longed to know everything about Daryl. Needed it like he needed oxygen, but he knew that Daryl would open up to him eventually. So for now, he would be okay with filling up the unknown with nonsense about good books and favourite colours.

Strangely though, his favourite part was the silences they shared.

Jesus had never been the type to enjoy silence. He found them suffocating. The immense quiet would put a pressure on his chest and he just needed to fill it with something. Sure he could move without making a sound or keep quiet for ages, but his mind was always working. The cogs in his head turning and his thoughts would be loud enough. 

Daryl was different. Daryl enjoyed silence. The peace that the man had never really grasped only came to him in those quiet moments. He would listen to the barely there sound of the trees swaying or the distant chatter of people. 

There was one night that Jesus would never forget, the air had been so quiet and empty Jesus could actually have believed that they were the only two people left on earth. Daryl was sat across from his gutting a squirrel while Jesus stared into the animals wide, lifeless eyes. 

Daryl's fingers were bloody and dirt was all over his arms and there was a smear of oil on his cheek that Jesus could make out if he squinted, all together he looked a mess. 

"Have you always been so quiet?" Jesus asked without really thinking about it. His brain to mouth filter always went haywire when he was with Daryl. 

The man had looked up at him with those damn blue eyes and oil smeared cheek and Jesus had really wanted to kiss him. 

"Nah," Daryl answered after a tense moment. He had dropped his eyes and was looking at the squirrel again. "I was a chatty shit when I was a kid. Merle always got pissed at me, used to say I questioned everything under the damn sun. Talked more than you do, which is sayin' something." 

And Jesus didn't know if he could live Daryl any more than he already did. He imagined a tiny Daryl walking around with his big brother -which the hunter had only mentioned in passing- talking the older boys ear off. 

"What changed?" Jesus knew he was pushing his luck but he needed to know. He needed to know when a chatty young boy turned into such a silent, closed off man.

Daryl didn't answer for a long time. So long in fact, that he was still silent when Sasha came over for her turn on watch. He only spoke when Jesus was about to go back to his temporary house after walking Daryl to his front porch like the gentleman he was.

"Ma dad." Jesus turned at the sound of his voice. Already a few paces away. He looked him in the eyes -there were no more squirrels to steal his attention away- as he spoke. "He didn't like it when I ran my mouth. Being quiet was better than the belt, y'know?" 

"You deserved better than that." Jesus said, because it was the truth. Daryl deserved the entire world. Hell, he deserved even better than the shithole the world had become. "The e world is quiet enough already, you know?" 

Daryl hadn't said anything in answer, choosing instead to walk into his house. Leaving Jesus alone in the silence. 

Silence was different when he was with Daryl. There was no pressure, the man never expected anything from him, was never disappointed with him when he did wrong. And Jesus was sure that he should find that depressing, but instead he found it beautiful. Because it was Daryl. 

And all of Daryl was beautiful.

***

He wasn't sure when things changed. It took a while through. He knew that.

There was a lot of innuendos and raised eyebrows, and huge amounts of blushing on Daryl's part -how anyone ever imagined Daryl as anything other than a complete and utter teddy bear was completely lost on Jesus- but somehow they made it.

He had already told Daryl he loved him long before it started. Back when they were just 'friends'. 

Jesus had been patient because he knew that Daryl liked him back. He could see it every time he looked into his eyes, he could see the love there. 

Everyone saw it coming, they didn't even need to tell anyone, which was good because Jesus doubted that Daryl would be able to face that conversation with the rest of the group being the shy little sweetheart he was. 

Daryl made the first move. 

It wasn't much really, just a kiss on the cheek one night when they were both on watch. Neither of them said anything, just laced hands over the rifle that sat in-between them. 

Jesus still traveled from place to place, and Daryl still went out hunting for days on end. They argued and had fights just like anyone else. But they always forgave each other and neither of them took it too far. They loved each other too much for that. 

The first time they had sex was a complete disaster. 

Jesus was giddy and Daryl was embarrassed and when the long haired man tripped over his own jeans and fell into Daryl they laughed so loud that they were surprised no one woke up. They grinned at each other and Jesus kissed the man he had fallen in love with. 

Daryl had no idea what to do and Jesus was rusty so they spent more time laughing at each other than doing anything else. 

It was the greatest night of both of their lives. 

The best part came after though. They woke up in each others arms, which wasn't new. They had been sleeping in the same bed for a while before that. Jesus had never really moved in as such, but before they would talk in Daryl's room before they both went to sleep in their own houses. But at one point he had just stopped leaving.

Daryl was awake first. He smiled when Jesus opened his eyes and hid his face in a pillow, shy excitement seemed to leak from his pores. All of it going straight into Jesus -which was a change to what happened the night before, if you catch the drift.

"Tell me about your tattoos." He spoke softly while he traced a finger over one on his back. He couldn't decide if they were demons or angels.

Jesus never asked about the scars. Daryl never told him. 

"What about 'em?" The mans gruff voice was muffled by the fabric. He was adorable. 

"What do they mean?" 

"Whatever you want 'em to." Daryl stood and began getting changed. Reaching for a cigarette he caught Jesus' gaze, his eyes were oddly serious. The question hung in the air for a moment. The only sound was Daryl flicking on the lighter.

Jesus had a feeling they weren't talking about tattoos anymore. 

"I think they're two angels," he began, "Who found each other somehow, against all odds. I think that they both have heavy souls, both of them have regrets just like any angel does. Even though they kind of look like trouble, they're both good. Some could say they are evil, but i think they are just wearing masks. Masks to hide who they are. I think they do it so they won't get hurt.

"I think that they're angels trying too hard to be demons." He finished.

Silence hung between them like the smoke that Daryl exhaled. 

Jesus watched as the cigarette burned out and tried not to burn out with it.

***  
Jesus had gotten stabbed once. 

It was long before he had met Daryl or any of the people he had begun to call family. He has been on a run looking for food when a woman had come out of nowhere and stabbed him in the shoulder with a buck knife. 

He'd managed to knock her out and left her in a room, safe from the dead, obviously. Still his shoulder had felt in fire and he kept feeling like he was going to pass out. 

The pain was ongoing, unlike ever he had felt before, instead of lessening it grew the nearer he got to Hilltop. Each step felt like his skin was being tore open a little bit more and soon he would be ripped completely in half. 

He was half dead when he got back. 

He had fainted the second he got past the gates, waking up to numbness in his shoulder. It had been hell. Even months later his shoulder never felt the same, stiffer and still with an underlying pain that came with most injuries. 

But that pain was nothing compared to what he felt when he walked through the gates of Alexandria that one spring morning. 

He guessed it was Spring, because no one really kept track anymore. The trees were blooming and the flowers were walking up and honestly the nature was beautiful. 

But reality hit him like a truck when he arrived. 

He should have known it would happen eventually; he did, to some extent. He knew that one day it would happen, it was human nature.

Jesus hadn't been there when Daryl died. 

Typical really. 

Luckily though, if any part of the situation he was in could have been described as lucky, the man hadn't turned. 

Beaten to death, apparently.

He had known straight away, the second he walked through the gates he knew something was wrong. 

Everyone was looking at him with such pity, as if he was going to break. Their eyes were filled with unsure tears at the sight of him. Limp arms fell to their sides and faces contorted in agony. 

Practically everyone was there, the whole group staring at him with the same, heartfelt expression. They all looked tired and broken, the world pushing down on them a little bit more. 

He wasn't really told anything at first, everyone just stared as Jesus tried to pick up the pieces of his soul. He stood by the gates like a ghost, while Maggie walked up to him, each step filling Jesus with dread. He knew, he knew exactly what was going on. 

She was carrying something, but Jesus' vision was too blinded by tears to see. He knew what it was. Of course he did.

She stopped a few steps in front of him and held out the object.

Daryl's vest. 

He would have taken that stab to the shoulder a thousand times and it would never have hurt this much. 

Jesus had experienced heartbreak a fair bit in his life. Lost his father and baby sister to a drunk driver. Found out his first ever boyfriend was only into him to make his ex jealous. His first love he lost to cancer. His second he found in bed with his very female best friend. Finding the third eating their infant daughter was the real kicker though.

But Jesus had never felt a pain like this.

They had fought before Jesus had left, something stupid about runs or hunts or whatever. Daryl had stormed out and Jesus hadn't followed him, he had been so fucking pissed at Daryl's stubbornness he had just left. Was gone before the hunter could say a word. 

He never got to say goodbye. 

Jesus didn't know why that hurt the most. Because he would never be able to say goodbye. They would never be able to talk to each other again, he would never hear his voice, touch his skin. Now even the silence would remind him of Daryl so much he would need his own screams to fill it. 

He would never know his last words. 

Would never know his last thought, or emotion or anything. He wasn't even there. 

Beaten to death. That's what Maggie had said, the syllables had drifted through his subconscious for a while before the words hit their mark. 

Beaten to death.

And Jesus wasn't even there. 

He doesn't really remember much after that, a few glimpses of walking and distraught faces but mainly darkness. A sickening stare into the empty void. 

He remembered shouting and Rick's voice but the words are muffled and unclear. Maggie's piercing eyes and Carols shaking lip. 

He vaguely remembered leaving on his own, yet is memories were still shrouded with a cloud of grief. Getting back into his car and driving, driving, driving. 

He didn't stop until his car was out of gas and his eyes were finally dry. Then he stepped out and stood in the middle of the road for what felt like hours. It was dark by then and the stars were shockingly bright. 

He thought about ending it.

Putting a gun to his head and letting those disgusting creatures eat him alive. 

It was a tempting thought. 

He couldn't though. Because that would mean giving up. That would mean giving up everything he had built, all those memories with Daryl would have been lost, cast away in the splatters of his brain which would litter the road. 

Daryl's shy smile would die with Jesus. His wise words and meaningful glances. Every touch, every word, all of it. All of it would be gone. 

Daryl may be six feet under but he wasn't truly dead. 

Daryl would die with Jesus. 

And that one thought was what made Jesus start walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Omg please don't hurt me okay I'm really sorry. My brain haunts me and I'm a disgusting person I know.
> 
> Also I'm sorry for any spelling errors or anything and I hope you enjoyed it, you know apart from the whole major death part but.... Yeah... Bye I guess


End file.
